


Brainwaves

by yasukematsuda



Category: Dangan Ronpa Zero
Genre: F/M, Gen, Medical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasukematsuda/pseuds/yasukematsuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matsuda rolled his eyes and firmly planted an electrode smack in the middle of Nagito’s forehead. “We were friends. Have you ever heard of those?”</p>
<p>“Ow.” Komaeda laughed. “Aren’t doctors supposed to be gentle?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brainwaves

“Mm, Matsuda-kun?”

Matsuda’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the young man’s voice.

“What is it?” His tone was, as it always was; apathetic, laced with a certain annoyance. He kept his face buried in the manga he’d been paging through that evening, not bothering to turn and look as he spoke.

“I think my IV may be leaking…”

The neurologist spun around on his heels and slammed the book shut. “It either is or it isn’t…” He dropped the manga on his desk with a thunk and walked to the other student’s bedside. “Either way, we could avoid the pain of uncertainty if you would just stop squirming around.”

The Hope’s Peak medical center, or rather, what had essentially become the workplace of Super High School Level Neurologist; Yasuke Matsuda, sat in the west wing of the school, adjacent to the physics lab and a floor above the school's gym. Both sides of the room were lined with a row of beds, all placed so that a single window illuminated each one. While Matsuda was not the sole owner of the entire work space given to the students with medically-relevant talents, he had staked his claim on a good portion of it and bullied the rest into a neutral zone.

File folders were splayed out on the desk meant to be his and manga magazines lined the shelf above, toppled on each other like dominoes and spilling onto the neighboring student’s work area.

Matsuda lifted the other's arm and removed the bandage holding the IV in place.  _ Of course it came out _ , the dark haired boy managed to hold back all but a sigh.  _ Just his luck. _

Cytoxan dribbled out onto his gloved hands _. _ Chemo drugs were always much more palpable to the touch, in Matsuda’s opinion, even through gloves. They were no thicker than anything else that could be given intravenously and they didn’t have any kind of significant texture, but the knowledge of what the drug was intended to treat always left him with a twinge of unease in his stomach.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“Just put this one back in. I don't mind.” Komaeda smiled and looked up at the young man as Matsuda narrowed his eyes.

“You know that the needle doesn't stay there after you put it in, don't you? The tip is hollow,” He brought his covered finger to the end of the IV. “It couldn’t even break the skin like this.” He couldn't tell if he was  _ actually _ trying to offer a suggestion to save time, or he just wanted his stupid idea deconstructed at length.

“I see! How very interesting, Matsuda-kun!” Komaeda smiled. Matsuda rolled his eyes. It was the latter, of course. That annoying talent fixation that fit so well with the rest of the schools’. They all drooled over the idea that these kids had a bit more knowledge or experience than the next and put them all on the highest possible pedestals for that reason alone.

And look what it’s gotten them into.

Though, Matsuda couldn’t complain. Not aloud, at least; Hope’s Peak acted as more of a savior than he’d care to admit, especially to him. He was granted more leniency than most students in more ways than he could count. He couldn’t afford to feel ungrateful.

“Now keep that on. If it falls off again, you’re gonna have to find someone else to do this for you, and believe me, not many people here would be as patient with you as I am.” Komaeda nodded in response. The other glanced back at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re  _ allowed _ to laugh, you know.”

Komaeda cocked his head, looking legitimately confused, “But, Matsuda-kun, you haven’t said anything funny yet.”

Matsuda glared. He’d grown used to Otonashi’s denseness but when it came to Komaeda, it was to the point that his sardonicism and legitimate confusion had all blended together and made conversations nearly unbearable to maintain. Of course, it could be argued that he felt similarly about conversing with anyone.

“Let’s just get your EEG readings. You don’t need to talk for that.” Matsuda gave a resigned sigh.

Komaeda gestured his head in agreement but immediately looked around the room for something that could prompt a new conversation.

_ “I like your folder.” _

Matsuda didn’t even have to turn around to know which one he meant. Every file folder and binder on his were left black or blue as it came. Untouched, decoration-wise, aside one made e _ specially _ for him by Junko. It was eliminated bright pink and covered with various kinds of stickers; design choices he assumed she had made to tease him with but he used it, regardless. Out of spite or sentiment, he could never tell.

The fact it always sat in the middle of his desk, though, was a proclamation to  _ whatever _ it was that compelled him.

“Mhm.” He grunted. “My girlfriend made it.”

“Enoshima-san, you mean?”

Matsuda paused for a few seconds before shaking his head, “Of course I mean,  _ Enoshima-san _ . Who else?” The silence was immediately cut by the patterned suctioning sounds of the backs to electrodes being peeled away.

“Well, there’s that red-haired girl always chasing you around… Plus, Enoshima always seems so…” Komaeda thought a second, “ _ eccentric _ compared to you.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“No, no,” The white haired young man quickly held up his hands in defense. “It’s not a bad thing! I’m only saying she’s more of a social butterfly while you’re-” He paused, thinking over his words. “I’m just very surprised you two have lasted so long despite your differences. You were childhood sweethearts, weren’t you?”

_ That stupid smile again… _

“ _ ”Childhood sweethearts?” _ ” What an awful phrase.” Matsuda rolled his eyes and firmly planted an electrode smack in the middle of Nagito’s forehead. “We were friends. Have you ever heard of those?”

“Ow.” Komaeda laughed. “Aren’t doctors supposed to be gentle?”

No response came from Matsuda as he began to sift through the lucky student’s hair for points on which to place the rest of the electrodes.  _ Let him ramble _ , he thought to himself.  _ It’ll be more incentive to get this done and over with as quickly as possible _ . Despite his own reassurances, though, every part of him still wanted to tape Komaeda’s mouth shut so he couldn’t speak another word regarding Junko. It wasn’t his place to meddle in Matsuda’s personal affairs. Then again, when had Nagito Komaeda ever involved himself in something that was?

He shook his head. “No… friends and lovers are too very different things, Matsuda-kun-”

_ “Will you stop saying lovers?” _

This time, Komaeda stayed silent, instead, looking intently at Matsuda for an answer to a question he had failed to even ask. Matsuda held eye contact for a second before turning his gaze to the keyboard below the EEG’s screen and punched in a few numbers.

“I don’t mind her company.” He answered simply.

Komaeda shook his head, chuckling, and looked up at the neurologist. “I didn't think you could ‘ _ not mind’  _ anything.”

“Hm.” Matsuda glanced over his shoulder but remained wordless, retrieving a phone from his front pocket and absentmindedly tapping in numbers to the timer. He refused to acknowledge that Nagito’s words had been like a punch to the gut, especially since he couldn’t possibly place why. Komaeda’s worn out smile returned and he craned his neck to get a look at the neurologist’s face.

“Do you love her?”

Matsuda thought for a second, lifted his eyes from the screen and shrugged.

“No.”

“I don't think you thought hard enough.”

“You're free to do it for me.” He turned on his heels to face the EEG’s screen once again and leaned down to scribble something on the chart sitting below it. “In fact, if you're so good at being me, why don't you handle your own treatment?”

The look in the white-haired boy’s eyes was infuriatingly close to pity. It was clear he was done playing the back and forth game that Yasuke’s deflections encouraged, which agitated the neurologist to no end. Partially because his snappy insults were being wasted on someone who accepted them in full. Partially because the young man’s questions just kept coming.

“Are you scared you’ll never be happy?”

“No, I know your session ends in a half hour.” Matsuda walked over to his desk and sat down, back turned to Komaeda. He flipped through a couple pages of the manga that always seemed to remain open on his desktop before speaking up once again.

“She isn't someone people are  _ happy _ with.” He tried to shrug off his own words in the most casual way, flipping to the next page.

“Matsuda-kun.”

The neurologist didn’t move.

“I see how you two are together…” He cocked his head. “I know you’ve done some pretty incredible things for her-”

Matsuda’s breath caught in his throat. He had no intention of prying on what things Nagito could possibly know, but the inflections on that word gave away enough to make Matsuda briefly consider taking an empty syringe to his IV. He could have guessed that Nagito would end up becoming tangled up in the web Enoshima had entrapped Hope’s Peak in. A guy like him was too intrusive to not have gleaned a detail or two about Enoshima’s grand plots or the Hope’s Peak staff’s ridiculous coverups, but that didn’t make the thought sit any better in Matsuda’s chest.

Nagito caught sight of the other’s now tensed posture and let out a startling laugh. “Don’t worry! My lips are sealed, I won’t tell a soul. But if that’s not love-”

“You're dying.” Yasuke interrupted. No humor in his voice this time, only pure bitterness. “Who could you possibly tell?”

Komaeda stopped before giving a sad nod, “I suppose you're right.” His eyes lifted and focused on Matsuda. “But know, I would have no reason to betray my friends. _ ” _

“We’re not friends.” The neurologist spoke bluntly. “And you would betray your own mother if you still could.”

“Matsuda-kun…” Nagito feigned a hurt tone. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“You expected me to be nice?”

Before Komaeda could reply, a small buzzing sound came from Matsuda’s pocket.

_ Damn. _ Matsuda sighed to himself.  _ There’s no way these results will be even slightly viable... _

“You’re done.” He stood up from his desk chair and walked over to the computer screen.

“For today, at least. Since you spent the whole test yapping, I expect you to come back tomorrow and get an  _ actual _ reading tomorrow.” As he spoke, he plucked each electrode off Komaeda’s scalp and carefully pulled the IV from his hand.

“I’m sorry, Matsuda-kun; I can sit here and do it all again if you’d like.” Nagito suggested, taking a piece of gauze from the side table and holding it to the place where the IV had been.

Matsuda waved him off, “I have classes to attend, too, you know.” This was practically a lie. Matsuda’s classes were all mostly self taught from textbooks, as per his own request, save a few required subjects that he regularly neglected. “Mikan can deal with you tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have someone else to gossip about school-wide romance with...”

“Of course…” Komaeda’s weak smile returned as he hopped up from the bedside and made his way to the door. “Then goodbye, Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda didn't reply. He waited for the door to shut before returning to his desk and sliding the sheets he'd jotted down Nagito's readings on into the brightly colored folder.

_ If that's not love... _


End file.
